


Summer Camp

by gigglingkat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglingkat/pseuds/gigglingkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I sent his brother to summer camp," he explained. </p><p>"You heartless bastard," laughed the manager. </p><p>"That seems to be the general consensus," John agreed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on LJ 10/2/06 - just moving over to provide a pdf now that MU has disappeared.
> 
> This story was originally postcards for spnpostsecret:  
> [Dean's postcard](http://pics.livejournal.com/gigglingkat/pic/0028hgs8)
> 
> [John's postcard](http://pics.livejournal.com/gigglingkat/pic/0028g4z5)

"Why are you doing this?" Dean asked. "Why are you destroying our family?"

John tried not to laugh. "Dean. I'm _not_ 'destroying our family'. I'm sending you to summer camp. You'll only be gone a week."

"But I don't _wanna_!" There were times when his seven year old son was mature beyond his years. This was not one of those times. John took it as encouragement. After a couple of rough years, Dean seemed to be coming out of his shell. He had made a friend in school. It was the first real connection that John could recall since Mary's death. It had opened up something in Dean that John was not going to let die without a fight. So when Marc's parents had mentioned the summer camp was still open, John enrolled Dean. He was slightly surprised by the reaction.

"I thought you liked Marc," he said. "Don't you want to spend a week with your buddy?"

Dean's eyes fell. "But what about you and Sammy?"

John's chest tightened. "We'll be fine for a week. You'll see. Once you're there, you'll forget all about us."

 _Please_ , John thought. _Please let this be normal homesickness._

***

_Day One — Father and Sons_

John knew that first morning there was trouble. Dean clung to his leg and stopped talking. John knew that silence was not golden where Dean was concerned. But Tom, the camp counselor, had wisely gotten Marc to take Dean to the campsite. Rather than lose face with his friend, Dean had settled for giving longing looks over his shoulder at John and Sam. Tom and Marc's mother, Gail, commented on it.

"Did you see that look?" asked Tom with a chuckle.

"Let me guess," Gail said to John, "You are the worst father ever for sending your son to camp. You should start saving now for the years of therapy that will be needed to overcome this trauma."

John felt relief wash over him. "So that's all normal."

The others started laughing. "Summer camp is just like the first day of school," Gail assured him. "They act like you are killing them, but in the end, it's you that's heartbroken."

Sam piped up from his perch on John's shoulders. "DEEEEEEEEN!"

Gail and Tom looked up with respect at the volume. Gail looked slightly concerned. "Uh-oh. Did someone not understand...?" She addressed Sam, "Dean is going camping, honey. He's going to stay here."

John couldn't see Sam's face but judging by the look on Gail's, Sam was not appeased. John began the awkward shuffle to get Sam off his shoulders. Sure enough, the realization that Dean was going _somewhere else_ was setting in and Sam began actively squirming. John nearly lost him twice.

"No! Git'DEEEEEEEEEN!" Sam was now trying to get to the ground to go chase his wayward brother. John's stint in the Marines had left him capable of handling a vast array of weaponry and explosives, but after three years he still found it difficult to manage one toddler. Sensing the situation was rapidly deteriorating, Tom made his excuses and left with a hurried promise to take good care of John's eldest. Gail helped John and the two adults barely managed to maneuver Sam into the back seat of the car.

Sam proceeded to wail at the top of his lungs.

John shook his head sadly. "But I'm not a horrible person for doing this, right?"

Gail grinned in sympathy. "Good luck."

Sam didn't stop crying until he had passed out from exhaustion later that night. John let him sleep in his clothes as he was afraid undressing him would start the screaming again.

***

Tom found Dean by the campsite. The Winchester boy had his tent set and Tom was thrilled to see it was done properly. "Hey, Dean," he called. "Why don't you come with me and we'll find the others? I want to show you guys around the site before it gets too dark, ok?"

Dean just shrugged and fell in behind him. Tom was relieved. This was going to be a piece of cake.

It was a hour or so before Tom realized Dean was not talking. Grunts and monosyllables were the best he could get. When he peeked in the tent later, Dean was sobbing into his sleeping bag.

 _Dammit,_ Tom thought. _We're going to have to work on bringing him out._

***

_Day Two — Tom and Dean_

The next morning, Tom took the group down to the lake for swimming. He watched Dean carefully. The Winchester boy was still "not good" in Tom's estimation. He was talking more, but only in direct response to others. Tom was encouraged by the fact that Dean was obviously making the others include Marc's younger brother in the proceedings. _Quieter than most,_ Tom thought, _but he might naturally be shy._

Tom had some more traditional scouting exercises planned: basic tracking, knots and whittling. Dean was a natural tracker and more than happy to show others. He began talking and taking the lead. By the time they worked through lunch and were learning knots, a group had crowded around the boy. Tom was more than happy to allow Dean to expand the class. The boys were quiet and hanging on nearly every word.

"What kind is that?" Tom asked. The knot looked too complex for a seven year old. But Dean could reproduce it without hesitation, so he couldn't just be making them up.

Dean shrugged in response. "I don't know the name. My dad taught me." A distinct pride entered his voice. "He was in the Marines."

"Marines, huh?" Tom tried to sound suitably impressed. That would explain the tracking skills as well. _First time at Camp but not his first time camping, I'll bet._ "Did he teach you how to carve as well?"

Dean's eyes positively lit up. "Yessir. Knife safety, too."

"Well, why don't you come help me and Marc teach the others?" Both boys scrambled to the table and Tom grinned. Marc was a seasoned pro for the camp and the boys looked to him as senior. He and Dean seemed to have some sort of partnership as leaders of this year's group. Dean deferred to Marc on matters of etiquette and rank, and Marc deferred to Dean in matters of execution and enforcement. Tom wished every camp would run so smoothly.

He monitored the "class" for a while and made sure that no one was in danger of cutting themselves with the blunted knives and went to grab a cup of coffee.

He was gone for less than 15 minutes.

The lodge was transformed when he got back. There were rowdy boys with _spears — sharpened spears!_ — running everywhere. Tom's stunned gaze fell on the table where he'd left them all. _Son of a bitch! He had them whittle sharper tools! That little shit! Knife safety my ass!_

"HEY!" Tom yelled. All activity immediately ceased. Tom gathered his thoughts. "Everyone to the lake for swimming."

A mass stampede began. "No. Wait! _No swimming with spears!_ "

He chased after his "easy" group.

***

By dusk, order was restored. The spears were all part of a massive bonfire. Dean seemed to know quite a bit about fire safety and made Tom dig an extra pit and deepen the main pit. "Just in case."

After the experience with the spears, Tom shuddered to think what had occurred to make someone teach such caution. He looked over at the older boys playing cards and did a quick nose count. At least they were all still here. He started to turn back to the younger boys when the image hit his brain.

_Not "cards"! They're playing poker!_

"HEY!" Tom walked over. All the boys looked up expectantly. "What are you doing?"

Several looks were shared which were obviously, "Is this a trick question?"

"We're playing poker," offered Marc.

"You can't play poker!"

Dean looked truly and honestly baffled. "Why not?"

Tom felt his control slipping away. "Camp rules. No gambling."

There was some grumbling but they all stopped and began making s'mores with the younger boys. He caught a couple of glares at Dean and Marc, and Dean himself continued to throw baffled stares at Tom himself but otherwise the rest of the evening was without incident. Tom chuckled as he remembered that he had been "worried" about dragging Dean out of his shell. Well, at least that concern was over.

But when he made his rounds that night, he heard crying from Dean's tent again. _Dammit._ He risked a peek inside. Dean was sleeping on a bed of pillows. Pillows belonging to the others.

"Where did you get all those pillows?" Tom asked, forgetting that he didn't want Dean to know he'd caught him crying.

Dean covered wiping his eyes by pretending to rub sleep out of them. "Won them."

Tom belatedly realized he hadn't made them return any winnings from the poker. He started to rectify the oversight but the look on Dean's face made his chest constrict. The boy looked well and truly miserable. Tom's face softened. _A night without pillows won't hurt anyone. Maybe it will teach them not to gamble. He can return them tomorrow._

"Good night, Dean."

He got a small smile, "Good night, sir."

***

_Day Three – John and Sam_

Since they had left Dean at camp, Sam had spent every waking moment crying or staring at John. Most of the stares were woeful. When they became slightly more baleful, John would call him on it and make him stop. But today there was a new twist. When John had woken up, Sam was curled up tight next to him. His son was peaceful as a lamb. He was sucking his thumb again and the staring and the silent treatment towards his father continued. But now, instead of despair or anger, Sam's three year old countenance was deep in thought.

It scared John more than anything he had ever seen.

***

_Day Three — Tom and Dean_

They had discovered the girls' camp next door. It was inevitable. Every year the same thing happened. Tom's wife, Debbie, called over to the lodge.

"Brace yourself," she chirped, "a couple of the girls just stumbled across your gang at the lake."

Tom groaned. "Dean Winchester. Figures."

"Who?"

"New kid. He's one of those sneaky ones that is quiet and homesick and then turns out to be'colorful' in the end. He taught the others how to whittle _spears_ and won their pillows off them at poker."

Debbie choked with laughter. "Holy hell. Sounds like you're having fun!"

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course not, honey. You want me to take some of the older boys and my group swimming? They won't be so rowdy with girls glaring at them."

 _A loving and mature husband would try to warn her what she was getting into... To hell with it. I'm just loving._ "That sounds like a good idea actually..."

***

_Day Three — Debbie and Dean_

Two hours later, Debbie was making mental lists of things to do before letting Tom know she was divorcing him. The "colorful" boy, Dean, had somehow organized an old fashioned panty raid on the girls' camp. She had had to call in reinforcements to get the hysterical girls settled and all clothing back to the correct owner.

Now she could not find her own daughter, Becky, or Dean. She made her way to call Tom's lodge when she heard Becky's voice.

"That can't be right. You're taller than me."

"Nah. You just tilt up and I lean down."

Debbie headed to them. As she got closer she heard Becky saying, "OK. 1, 2, 3... GO!"

Debbie rounded the corner. _That boy_ was _kissing_ her _baby!!!!_

Debbie grabbed his ear and yanked him off Becky. Dean let out a startled yelp and clutched her arm. Becky let out a horrified screech and took off running towards the camp.

"You are GROUNDED, young lady! Do you hear me?" Debbie called after her. "And you wait until your father finds out!"

***

Within ten minutes, Debbie was frog marching the sex-crazed, daughter-corrupting delinquent back to the boys' camp. She had been taking the opportunity to lecture him on proper decorum and _non_ -daughter-corrupting activities which would be far more appropriate.

" _She_ kissed _me!_ " Dean protested.

The fair and logical portion of Debbie's mind replayed the last thing she had heard her daughter saying. The enraged mother portion of her mind told the fair and logical one to shut up. But a new approach might be needed.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you how to behave..." She trailed off at the absolute coldness that suddenly washed over Dean.

"I don't have one," he said flatly. "She was murdered when I was four."

Debbie came to a complete halt and abruptly let him go. _Holy shit. There's no way Tom knew about this._ Debbie reached out and smoothed the back of Dean's clothes. He flinched slightly from her but he didn't run away. Debbie didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want him to close up again, but he seemed too fragile to talk more about it.

Moving away from the death, she remembered what Tom said about being homesick. "So it's just you and your dad now?"

Dean nodded and moved a little closer. "And Sammy. He's only three. They need me. I need to go home."

 _Which is probably the exact reason your father wanted you to go to camp. Oh wow._ "You _are_ going to go home in a couple of days, sweetie. You'll see. Everything will be fine."

Dean just started walking back to camp. Debbie sighed and followed him.

"Do you want to go back to the lodge? They are making popcorn." She asked.

Dean shook his head. "I'm tired."

 _Drained is more like it._ "You sleeping okay?"

Another head shake was the answer and she could see him withdrawing. She was definitely not going to get any more from him. "Well why don't you just turn in a little early tonight?"

Dean nodded and they headed to the tents. Debbie was a little surprised at the number of pillows but it probably was more comfortable. She gave him some privacy while he got into bed and then poked her head in. "All set."

Dean's eyelids were drooping already. "Night, sir... ma'am."

She smiled. Going into the tent, she reached out and tucked him in. That actually got a smile. She smoothed his hair back and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Good night, sweetie."

She made her way back to the lodge and surprised Tom with a quick kiss and long hug.

"Hey," he whispered into her hair, "what's all this?"

"I love you," she whispered back.

"I love you, too," he said as he squeezed her.

She broke away. "I had to bring Dean Winchester back early. He's in his tent."

"Oh God. Now what did he do?"

Debbie practically growled. "You leave that poor boy alone. He's just homesick and misses his family. God, I can't imagine what they've been through!"

Tom was completely lost. "What?"

Debbie just shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Tom cautiously tried again. "So _why_ did you have to bring him back early?"

Debbie answered as she was going out the door. "I caught him kissing Becky."

Tom began spluttering. "Wait! Wha... when did... _BECKY?!_ He kissed _my daughter?_ "

Debbie spun around and kept walking backwards. She had a huge grin on her face and she merrily called back, "I kissed him good night, too!"

***

Tom made his way to the tents to give Dean a piece of his mind. He was stopped by the all too familiar sounds of crying.

Later that night, Dean finally seemed to have collapsed from exhaustion and was sound asleep.

*** __

_Day Four — John and Sam_

The phone ringing woke John up. The motel door was wide open. Ignoring the phone, John raced from the motel room yelling for his son.

"SAMMY!"

The motel day manager ran out of the office, "Here! He's fine! He's in the diner!"

John barreled past the man trying to explain, "We were just calling you..."

Sam was in one of the motel's diner booths, systematically pouring out their salt shakers onto the table. John walked up and scooped up his errant son in one motion. Sam squealed and determinedly rubbed salt into John's face.

"What the fu...," spluttered John. "Sammy! Stop that! It stings!" He began to lose his grip and Sam was fighting him. "STOP THAT!"

"NO!" was the stubborn response. "Need Dean! Git! Gimme! BAD DADDY!"

John grew increasingly aware the amused motel staff. "I sent his brother to summer camp," he explained.

"You heartless bastard," laughed the manager.

"That seems to be the general consensus," John agreed.

"Need salt," Sam offered.

 _What the hell?!_ "Why do you need salt, Sammy?" John asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Bad Daddy! Git Dean!" Sam shouted and threw more salt at John. The manager left doubled over with laughter.

John scooped Sam up and over the wailing protests marched back to their room. He unceremoniously dumped his youngest son to the bed and slammed the door. The noise startled Sam and mercifully stopped his crying. John fell into a chair. Sam sat up on the bed and glared at his father. John was too overwhelmed to correct it. _First things first,_ he decided.

"Sammy, how did you get out?" The motel door dead bolted with a key on both sides. It was one of the reasons John had chosen the motel.

The glare intensified, so John tried another tactic. "That was really clever, Sammy. How did you do it? Was Daddy bad? Was the door unlocked?"

A wave of malicious pride transformed Sam's face. With a sly look at the dresser, Sam said, "Opennit."

"Opened it?" John asked while getting up and moving to the dresser. He looked down and his blood ran cold. His lock pick kit was spread haphazardly across the dresser. He hadn't even known that Sam understood what a lock pick _was._ Sam could not have possibly...

"You _picked the lock?!_ " he heard his voice rise. "No! Bad! You do _not_ pick locks to run away from Daddy!"

He hadn't gotten past "no" when Sam started yelling back, "Gotta go git Dean now! Go! GO. GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO!"

The decibel level earned them pounding on the wall from the neighbors. Sam threw another temper tantrum.

"Stop that!" John yelled as he grabbed the lamp. He was struck in the head with a pillow. "Sammy! I'm serious! Behave!"

Sam collapsed into tears and flung himself across the bed kicking and punching at the mattress.

"WANT DEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!" Sam wailed.

John sighed. It was going to be a long day. 

_Day Four — Tom and Dean_

The cooking class was a rousing success. The results were edible; no weaponry was created or used; nothing was gambled away; Dean stayed where Tom could see him at all times. Dean seemed genuinely in awe of cooking.

"Rock salt makes _ice cream?!_ "

"Did you think it was just for clearing snow off roads?" Tom asked. Dean gave him a startled and oddly guarded look and went back to cooking.

The daily outing to the lake for a swim came up with no weaponry, gambling or other inappropriate behaviors. Tom felt himself relaxing. The boys were even singing on the way back from the lake. Then he sighed. He should have known better.

Bobby, the 6 year old, had fallen behind and was now close enough for Tom to hear what he was singing. "Ain't no doubt it, we were doubly blessed....'cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed..."

Tom didn't have the energy anymore. "Dean?" He called out.

Dean turned around and looked questioningly back. "Stop teaching them Meatloaf lyrics, please," Tom asked.

Another baffled look was his only response.

***

_Day Four – John and Sam_

He had ordered room service because he was afraid to take Sam to the diner like this. The two had reached an uneasy truce. As long as John made no move to help him, Sam sat in the chair and fed himself. John winced at the mess he was creating. Sam finally reached for the salt and deliberately started shaking it as to fling salt at his father.

"Stop that! Goddammit, Sammy! Look at the mess!"

"BAD DADDY!"

John couldn't take it anymore. "Sammy. Sammy, talk to me, baby. What's wrong? Why am I a bad daddy?"

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "BAD Daddy! I wan' GOOD Daddy ba'k! Gimme Good Daddy. We go git Dean!"

John processed it for a moment... _Bad... salt... "wan' good daddy"... want good daddy back...._

"Oh for Christ's sake... Sammy. _I am not possessed because I left your brother at camp!"_

And then the wailing started.

***

_Day Four – Tom and Dean_

"... and what'cha got them _teeth for?_ ' gasped the hunter, as he turned to run away.

'To eat you up, like you was gonna eat me!' screamed Rawhead, with his yellow eyes gleaming. 

And after that night, no one saw the lazy hunter again. Sometimes they thought they saw someone wearing his clothes and riding his horse. But when they got closer, they could see the raccoon tail in the moonlight..." Dean finished his story with a subtle whisper.

Tom didn't know what to say. Campfire stories were supposed to be scary, not trauma inducing. From the vacant, terrified looks, there were several boys who were going to have nightmares.

"Well, that was a... _vivid_ story, Dean," Tom managed to squeak out. "Where did you hear that?"

"Daddy knows all kinds of cool sh... stories!" was Dean's proud response. Tom gave up. His offer to open the lodge for sleeping was taken up by half the boys.

He stayed with them all by the fireplace, making sure they were all in their sleeping bags before settling in the chair. The door opened behind him and he turned to greet the latecomer.

Rawhead's yellow eyes gleamed as his jaws descended to cutoff Tom's screams.

Tom woke up with a start. _Next year, we aren't having bonfire night._

***

_Day Five – Tom and Dean_

Dean shook Tom awake. "You have to get out!"

"What?" Tom mumbled.

"FIRE!" Dean shouted. Running from Tom, Dean woke up the others. Marc appeared and began helping. Tom found himself and the boys herded outside before he could process what was happening.

_The Lodge is on fire!_

The fire appeared to be in the back towards the kitchen and utility room but it was rapidly spreading. Tom shook the sleep from his mind and threw himself into action. _Thank God for drills and planning._

***

The fire plan was a success. Tom tried to take comfort in that fact as he surveyed the damage with the firemen. The fire had started in the electric box. A crowd of boys was gathered around as the chief explained it to Tom.

"As you can see, this has been spliced. Someone tried to feed off the main line..." the chief was saying.

"Dean did it!"

Tom and the chief turned startled gazes to the boys. The group was rapidly dispersing and Dean and another boy, Neil, were being left behind. Dean was gaping at Neil.

"You little shit," Dean growled at the other boy.

Neil ran over to a shocked Tom. "He did it! He was trying to get electricity for the tents."

"I got the electricity for _my_ tent. You spliced the _main_ line! You can't _do_ that!" Dean shouted. He lunged for Neil. Tom and the chief moved quickly between them. Tom dragged Neil off.

The chief was holding Dean with one arm and looking up at the burnt out Lodge. "Son of a bitch," he said. "Yep. Look there. You can see where the _other_ feeds came off the line."

He looked down at Dean. "Do you know how much juice that takes?"

Dean started to respond but obviously thought better of it. Tom tried to get a now sobbing Neil under control and listen to Dean at the same time.

The chief was trying logic. Tom could only assume the man had no children of his own. "You should be more careful there, partner. You keep doing things like that and you'll end up arrested for arson. The cops would take you from here and back to your folks."

Tom could tell from the sudden thoughtful gaze Dean bestowed on the chief that he had better intervene. "You both. Come here. Now."

Dean glared at Neil but made no attempts to attack the other boy again. Tom marched them around the front and into the Lodge.

"I want you both to look. _See what you did?_ " Tom ordered as he pushed them in the busted door.

The walls were caked with soot. Pictures of previous camps and various other collectibles were ruined. Water was everywhere. The ceiling had been ripped opened and shredded as the firefighters made sure the blaze was contained. Neil was crying and Dean was pale and trembling. Tom hated to do it. But he was hoping to make a strong impression. Better now than later when someone could get hurt.

***

_Day Five – John and Sam_

Every child rearing book Mary had made John read before Dean was born told John that having a routine was critical at the toddler stage.

 _Well, I've got a routine, alright,_ John thought grimly. _Escape, chase, evade, capture, accuse, repeat._

He had not expected a three year old to be so... _determined._ After the previous day's activities, John moved the lock picks to the trunk. He woke in the morning to discover Sam had confiscated one. His youngest's fleeing form was the first thing his eyes had locked on. John had caught up with him in the hall that first time easily and brought him back to the room.

For the rest of the day, John began to wonder if all toddlers were capable of teleportation or if Sam was especially gifted. It felt like every time John blinked, Sam was out of the room. Every time, John found him with complete strangers.

Sam would blatantly lie and tell people John was not his father. Two nights with no sleep had not improved John's looks. Most people tended to believe the sweet and adorably innocent looks Sam bestowed on them more than John's aggravated demands. The manager had had to vouch for John three times.  The manager didn't look as amused as he had earlier.

***

_Day Five – Tom and Dean_

Later that afternoon, as the firefighters put out the latest fire – this one in Neil's tent — Tom wondered what precisely he had done to make God hate him so.

The chief came over to commiserate. He was telling Tom how this fire was contained but Tom could only look over to the children lined up by the police cars to contact their parents to pick them up. It was the first time the camp had ever been forced to close early. And it had been on his watch.

The chief was saying something about a ditch that made no sense. "What ditch?" Tom asked.

The chief was startled. "I was saying that this would have been much worse if you hadn't had them dig fire ditches all around their tents. I'd be happy to speak to your bosses..."

The chief trailed off as Tom suddenly stood up and moved to the tents. Sure enough, each tent had a ditch like the one he had shown the boys to make around the bonfire. In fact, it was deeper than the ones he had made.

 _Just in case_ , Dean's voice floated through his mind. Neil's tent — the snitch's tent. The only one to catch fire. And it caught fire when no one was around. It caught fire after a ditch had been dug to prevent fire from spreading.

Dean.

 _No_ , his mind tried to reason. _Why would..._

Tom looked over at the homesick boy who was for the first time beaming with joy as he waited for the phone.

Tom was never quite clear what happened next. He only had fuzzy recollections of Dean's startled face as Tom physically picked him up into the air and shook him. He also thought he remembered a cop's voice telling him to put Dean down. But he was never quite certain.

***

_Day Five – John and Sam_

Sam's lock picking skills now extended to basic hot wiring. John could not tell what the hell he had done to the phone. The casing came off at the touch and it was completely inoperable.

Sam was perched on the bed glaring at his "BAD DADDY". John glared right back. "Do you know how much I had to put down for a security deposit?"

He was startled by the knock at the door and was nervous to find the motel manager at the door.

Sure enough, "There's something wrong with your phone," was the first thing the man said.

"Really?" John bluffed. "I haven't had reason to try it."

A man in a cheap suit was standing to the side. "John Winchester?" he asked.

"Yeah?" John answered back warily.

"My name is Ed Coopersmith, Mr Winchester. I've been assigned by the courts to your son, Dean. We need to talk."

_I just wanted him to go to summer camp like the other kids!_

John just sighed. "Come on in."

***

_Day Five – Father and Sons_

Sam was back to normal again, and talking nonstop to the public defender. "Law'er make Daddy go'git Dean? Go'git Dean _now_?"

Ed was charmed. "That's right. Lawyers make parents go get their kids from jail," he chuckled.

Sam bestowed the full wide eyed adoration look on him. "I like law'ers."

 _That's good,_ John thought wryly. _You and Dean stay on course, and you'll be meeting lots of them._

After a briefing on his eldest child's activities, John was packing up their gear. It was time to move. Since his wife's death, John had begun to believe in signs. Lock picking and arson were signs. Maybe he'd take up that preacher's offer of a place to stay. Jim, that was his name. "Pastor Jim" might be able to help with the boys through the next school year.

Sam wanted to ride with the lawyer and John was too exhausted to care. They just moved the car seat.

***

At the station, the local cops didn't give them any trouble. Seemed Dean was considered more of an amusement than a threat. John caught a bit of the conversation and reacted to Tom's name.

"Tom the counselor? He's here?"

Ed gave him some assessing looks. "Now, it's being handled. But, um, there was an... altercation... between your son and one of the staff members..."

"Oh God," John moaned. He could see it too clearly. That bright optimistic man and Dean... he should have known. He opened up his wallet. "What's the bail on Tom?"

***

Dean was brought out. John knew this, not because he saw him, but because Sam was suddenly 20 feet down the hall. There was an echoing Doppler effect of "DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!" resounding through the corridor. Cops were hastily removing themselves from the line of fire.

Sam collided with his brother who scooped him up without breaking stride. "Hi, Sammy."

"Hi," said Sam as he put his head on his brother's shoulders and slumped in his arms.

Dean made his way to his father. The look in his son's eyes, kept John's recriminations silent. _He looks like he hasn't slept any more than I have. What the hell went on at that place?_

"Hey, sport," John said softly. He was relieved that the tension was visibly leaving Dean. "Go get your brother in the car while I wrap up here."

"Yessir," Dean whispered back. "What's wrong with him?"

"What?"

"Why's he so tired?" Dean clarified and John realized with a shock that Sam was fast asleep in his brother's arms. John's throat constricted. He just shook his head and sent him out with a gesture. Dean left.

***

Twenty minutes later, John had the paperwork done and Sam's car seat from Ed's car. He opened the back door of the Impala.

Both boys were sound asleep with peaceful and serene smiles on their faces. John stared at the sight. Mary's sons. Happy and safe. It was his only source of happiness in life anymore. Hunting and revenge were satisfying, but the sight in front of him was the only thing that could truly bring him to his knees.

Dean stirred. He shook Sam. "Gotta go in your seat, Sammy."

Sam mumbled something as John reached in. "Come on, boys," he whispered. "Let's go home."

"We are home," they responded in unison. And for the first time since Mary's death, John Winchester cried.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been insanely fortunate that this story stuck with people. I welcome any and all additions to it. If you record it, translate it or what ever - I'd love to see it.
> 
> [Russian translation](http://www.diary.ru/~Singh/p148135340.htm?oam#more1)  
> [Chinese Translation](http://super0909.freeforum.hk/thread-7454-1-1.html)  
> Podfic recording by elswhere_kels: [mp3](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/summer-camp) :: [audiobook](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/summer-camp-audiobook)


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